


Grievances

by mldrgrl



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Regrets, Separation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 07:39:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12789888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mldrgrl/pseuds/mldrgrl
Summary: Scully reflects on her broken relationship with Mulder before season 10





	Grievances

It’s funny how she misses the things she used to complain about.  The way he would press against her in the middle of the night, for example.  It would wake her up, for one thing, but for another, he clutched her almost suffocatingly harder when he was asleep; like he was afraid she would disappear.  Only now that she has the space to roll over without bumping into him, does she long for the readiness of his arms around her and the solid wall of his chest against her back.  Towards the end, it was only in unconsciousness that he was reaching out to her anyway, on the rare occasion they happened to be sharing the bed.

 

She also misses finding his clothes strewn about the floor and tripping over his shoes.  Everything is in its place in her new apartment, but it just means there is never a breadcrumb trail to follow that leads to unexpectedly being pulled fully clothed into the shower or the opportunity to slide into the abandoned t-shirt that’s still warm from his body and bears the distinct smell of his cologne and sweat in the collar, even as she yelled at him from down the hall that she didn’t appreciate cleaning up the mess he’d just made.  She hasn’t stubbed her toe on carelessly dropped running shoes in awhile, and there’s been no dramatic apologies with attempts to kiss her feet in atonement.  Her toes actually miss his kisses as much as her mouth does.

 

To an almost aching degree, she misses his unfailing attempt to seduce her away from the dishes when she was home for dinner.  She always pushed him away and told him knowing the sink was full was too distracting, but still he tried.  She knows now that the message he was receiving was that the dishes were more important than him and only in hindsight can she understand why he stopped trying so hard.

 

On cold mornings, she misses the days that he got out of bed, even when he didn’t have to, just to start her car and turn the heater on.  She can’t believe, looking back, that maintaining her independence was that precious and that she had the nerve to be annoyed by such a loving and caring act.  And yet, it did annoy her.  She had told him countless times, she could start her own damn car and scrape the frost off the window her damn self.  Eventually, he did stop.

 

The thing she misses the most, the thing that makes her chest feel hollow and squeezes her stomach churn when she thinks about it, is that she can’t remember the last time she’s spoken to anyone about her son.  She hated, to the point of dreaded, any time he asked a question about the baby boy he’d never had a chance to know.  The guilt and regret were too overwhelming for her to answer the questions he had and over the years, he had a lot of questions.  She knows he didn’t stop asking because of a lack of curiosity.  They weren’t talking much about anything in the end.

 

When she sees him now, when he kisses her cheek softly, but dispassionately, when he keeps his hands in his pockets and his eyes shielded by sunglasses, she wonders if he misses her a fraction of the amount she misses him.

 

The End


End file.
